Staying Power
by Kerrison
Summary: Ziva struggles to maintain her independence while still working with Mossad. Old friends visit, causing Tony to rethink exactly where he fits in Ziva's life. Post "Agent Afloat" & continuation of the "Hold On" series including "Hold On" and "Tuesday Nig
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Thanks to my awesome beta reader, Jaimee. This story won't be updated as quickly as the last two because its not yet finished. Feedback is appreciated.

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The smell of coffee and Philly cheese steaks wafted through the air of the elevator and Tony's stomach grumbled.

The morning had been especially rough. Two dead bodies with barely recognizable dog-tags had been found in Anacostia.

Trooping through the historical neighborhood of DC and interrogating little-old-ladies who liked to sit on their rockers had not been his idea of fun.

Ziva's temper had been short all day. When Tony had given her an inquisitive gaze, as if to ask "What's wrong?" she had merely shook her head at him.

Obviously she didn't want to talk about it and Tony knew better than to push her- especially when her shoulders had that particular set to them. He knew she needed a neck rub; he knew she was tense which made her prone to headaches.

But despite knowing all of those things about her, he still worried if she trusted him enough to share – to tell him what was eating at her.

Ducky was autopsying the bodies, happy to have two new guests to speak with in the morgue.

Abby was running analysis the dog tags and the mysterious green goo they had found stuck to the corporal's shoe. She was voting for alien intervention as cause-of-death. They had all chuckled as she reverently looked at the evidence tube. She, of course, did not find it amusing.

They all had missed breakfast, having been called in early.

Gibbs' cup of coffee had been spilled when one of the old ladies in Anacostia had opened her door, and her dog squeezed past, plowing into Gibbs' legs in his attempt to get out of the house.

Old lady, dog, or accident didn't matter – spilling Gibbs' coffee was enough to set the man on edge for the rest of the day.

Needless to say, lunch couldn't have come soon enough.

Tony was smart enough to pick up a replacement cup of coffee for Gibbs when he had been sent on a lunch-run.

McGee was in the lab helping Abby. And Ziva had been called into MTAC. Gibbs... well, Gibbs didn't do lunch runs.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open.

Tony's ears were assaulted with what could only be described as violently-spoken Hebrew.

He rounded the corner, his body already on alert. Ziva rarely took that tone and, when she did, it was never pretty.

She stood on the landing of the stairs, facing a tall dark-completed man. Her hands gestured wildly as she spoke, something he was not used to seeing in his stoic partner. Tony moved towards his desk and set down the bag of food and coffee. He kept an eye on Ziva while pulling Gibbs' coffee from the carrier.

His boss moved next to him silently, taking the cup from Tony's hands.

"Who's the punching bag, boss?" he said softly, motioning with his chin towards the encounter

Gibbs glanced at the younger agent and took a sip of his coffee. hid his smirk behind his cup of coffee before replying. "Her fiancée, DiNozzo."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: For those of you who were unclear after the last chapter, yes this IS a continuation of "Hold On" and "Tuesday Nights." I promise it is a continuation. sigh Trust the process folks. :-p**

**My beta is out of town, so all mistakes are my own.**

For the first time since the Y Pestis, Tony had gone home early. He told Gibbs he wasn't feeling one-hundred percent.

The older man had just looked at him, almost a knowing gaze, before nodding. Tony had firm orders to either see a doctor, or be back at work the next day.

It was true. There was this knot in Tony's stomach that wouldn't go away. A roll of Tums and a Ginger Ale later, he still felt like he was torn between violent nausea and as if someone had sucker-punched him.

He knew a doctor couldn't help.

A good glass of bourbon would, though.

She knocked lightly on his door, knocking again when he never answered. She called to him and a small wrinkle of worry creased her brow when she got no reply.

Lockpick in hand, she tested the knob, only to find that it turned easily- unlocked.

The lights were dim in the apartment but it didn't take her eyes long to adjust.

He sat on the couch, hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees. His face could only be described as distraught.

"Its Tuesday," she said softly, still standing in the door way. "I was worried when you didn't come over. Gibbs said you were ill-"

Tony lifted his head, finally looking at her. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better and closed it, turning his head back to stare at his hands.

Ziva shut the door behind her and crossed the room quickly. She sat on his coffee table, immediately in front of him. She placed a hand over his.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, his voice cracking somewhat.

Her heart seemed to crumple at his tone. It was a new feeling for her and she couldn't help her voice from rising in indignation and shock "What? No!"

_Maybe that's worse- seeing her everyday but now she's married. _All he did was nod.

"When's the wedding. Are you registering at Target? I hear they have good coffee makers."

"Tony," she said, sighing. She cupped her hand around his cheek and gently raised his head so his eyes met her. "He's Michael. My father has been trying to arrange our marriage for years."

"Gibbs said you're engaged."

She nodded. "Technically I suppose that is true."

"Oh."

Ziva smirked sardonically. "That does not mean I'm going to marry him." He frowned and she sighed. "Did you have dinner?" she asked, noting how pale he seemed.

"No. I'm not feeling all that great."

"Perhaps because you didn't eat all day," she said. He had disappeared almost immediately after lunch, his sandwich forgotten on his desk.

"Could be," was his reply.

Ziva stroked his cheek with her thumb briefly. "If I make soup, will you eat it?"

He shrugged.

She rose and headed to his kitchen, finding everything easily. A kosher cup-of-noodles he kept on hand for her was in the microwave.

Her brown eyes glistened as she stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching him. He hadn't moved and it worried her; Tony was seldom still.

_Was he jealous of Michael? Or was he worried about losing yet another partner? _She thought. The only way to know was to ask him- and sensitive chats weren't really Ziva's forte.

The microwave dinged, and she brought him the cup and a spoon, resuming her spot in front of him on the coffee table.

He poked at the noodles, letting the steam escape the broth. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice so low, any other woman might have missed it.

_Why, indeed? _"It did not seem important," she said succinctly.

"The hell it isn't," he said, his head snapping up and his eyes sparking. "I don't spend weekends away on secluded islands with engaged women! Especially not women engaged to trained assassins!"

She tilted her head at him, too many responses clouding her mind. "Exactly how many women i_do _/iyou take to secluded-" she shut her mouth, mid sentence, realizing it was not a productive nor appropriate retort. Ziva cleared her throat. "It doesn't effect our work, Tony. And it has not yet come up in our personal lives."

"Maybe it should have!" He countered.

It took a moment before she nodded, acquiescing. "It should have. You are right. I apologize for making you feel as if I kept something from you."

He sighed and set the soup down and scrubbed his hands across his face.

"So tell me now," he demanded, his voice even and reserved.

"Michael has worked for Mossad for many years," she started, her voice with a light quiver to it- one he had never heard before. "He is a very well-qualified agent and he hopes one day to take Papa's place as Director. Papa hopes that I will be Director – or in this case, the Director's wife."

"That means you have to go back to Israel," Tony supplied, watching her nod in agreement. "You just said you weren't leaving."

"I'm not. I have no intention of returning any time soon. The distant future is still unclear, Tony, but I will be here tomorrow- and the next day."

"The distant future shouldn't be unclear, Ziva," he said.

"It often is. What was I supposed to do when Director Vance ended my position here? Find some odd schlub and get married just for a greencard? I do not think that would have been a good plan, Tony. Besides, I am still technically Mossad- I have a job there."

"You have a job here, Ziva. And ... we're your family," he added, noticing a faint blush to her cheeks.

"I know. But he is my father, Tony."

"And just because Daddy wants to get you all married off to this Mike dude, you're going to go running back to Tel-Aviv and start a little Mossad breeding farm?"

"I have already said I am not going back."

"You're _engaged_, Ziva!"

She rolled her eyes and muttered an 'oy-vay' under her breath. "Just because he asked, and my father agreed, does i_not_/i mean that _I _have said yes. It does not mean that I have any intention of marrying him! Why is it so important to you, Tony, that Michael has asked Papa to marry me? And who are you to tell me who I can and cannot have babies with!?" Somewhere during her tirade, she had stood and begun to pace in front of the sofa, gesturing as she spoke.

He stood, facing her, his voice rising. "If you're engaged to him, Ziva, you'll be back in Tel-Aviv before we know it! If you're going, go now!"

She spun on her heel, fists at her side. "You make it sound as if I need to leave tomorrow!"

"Maybe you should!"

"Maybe I will!"

They stood a step apart, both bodies tense, and on the edge of tears.

Her voice softened and she blinked back the moisture in her eyes.

"Give me a reason to stay, Tony."

Before the last whisper of his name left her mouth, he closed the gap between them. His hands cupped her face and he ducked his head, his lips gently caressing hers.


	3. Chapter 3

He pulled back, barely grazing her lip with his teeth, and rested his forehead against hers. He felt her shift subtly in his arms as her hand came up to cup his cheek.

"That is a reason to stay?" she whispered, her fingers gently tracing down his jaw-line, a barely perceptible shake to her touch.

He swallowed as he nodded. "Plus, don't forget Tuesday nights and DiNozzo Spaghetti."

She grinned; "Three of my favorite reasons."

He smiled and he felt her deftly kiss him again. They were hesitant and reserved in their explorations, but still eager enough to continue the battle of lips for a few more moments before they pulled back.

They stood, forehead to forehead, catching their breath, eyes closed and leaning against each other. Ziva muttered a polite excuse, slipping down the hall towards his bathroom.

Tony sighed heavily, a small prayer of thanks crossing his lips. It would have been very easy for that experience to have gone the other way – she could have grabbed her belted knife and sliced several reasons of her own into him in defense. Or, as she was always eager to point out, she certainly hadn't needed a weapon to inflict some serious pain on him.

He flopped into the corner of his choice, resting his head back and closing his eyes.

He had heard her open the bathroom door, and noticed the subtle change in her footfalls as she walked back towards the front living room of his apartment.

_No shoes, _he thought.

Tony felt the sofa dip as she settled next to him on the couch and, when she hesitated, he slipped an arm around and pulled her close against his side.

"So you're engaged?" he asked, his voice even. He still had not lifted his head- his eyes closed but pointed towards the ceiling.

"Technically."

"How can you be 'technically' engaged?"

She shifted in her seat, snuggling slightly deeper into his embrace. "We do not have arranged marriages is Israel- not the way Americans think of," she started. "Many times women find their own husbands- but in some families a matchmaker is still used to pick the most ideal candidate."

"Like in _Fiddler?_" he asked, referring to the famous musical where a father uses a Yente to marry off his three daughters.

She chuckled. "Similar, yes. There is generally less singing."

"Unfortunate – you have a lovely voice, Ms. David," he turned his head and kissed the top of her head quickly, resting his cheek against it.

Ziva covered his hand with her own, her thumb tracing gentle patterns against the back of Tony's hand as he held her to him in a secure embrace. "In Israel if a father agrees to a daughter's marriage, she still has the right to say no. Michael has asked Papa- and Papa agreed. But...I would be the first woman in our family to say no."

Tony steeled his voice for the next question: "Do you love him?"

Her answer was quick and solid. "No. I do not."

"Do you want to marry him?"

"No."

"So what's the problem?"

She sighed. "I like my life here."

"I like your life here, too," he replied.

She sat up, pulling away from him as she did so. "Tony, do you not see? My position with NCIS – my time _here – _is a mutual agreement! If Papa truly wants to, he can end my liaison position at any time. The Director is not the only one with that power."

He shifted and turned to meet her gaze. "You think that if you tell your father that you won't marry Mr. Mossad-man, he'll make you go back to Israel?"

"Michael," she corrected. "And I think it is a distinct possibility."

"I think that's crap! Ziva, you're a grown woman- he can't tell you... he can't treat you like you're a five year old!"

She looked at her lap briefly, her thumb toying with a fray on her cargo pants.

Tony continued; "So you're going to marry the guy just to keep your job?"

"No!" she said, looking up and shaking her head. "I will not marry him! I will not marry someone I do not love, but I am not looking forward to losing my life here, either!"

He frowned and rubbed his eyes with his hands. "It's been a _really _long day."

Ziva's face fell. "Yes."

Tony yawned before speaking again. "I wish you had told me about him, Ziva," he looked at her while he spoke, seeing her merely nod in reply. "I know I wasn't the most honest before, but... I wish you had told me. That's all."

"I know, Tony," she replied, her voice soft and heavy with the disappointment she felt radiating off of him.

They were silent a few beats before he cleared his throat. "Where's Mr. Mossa-" he stopped himself. "Where's Michael staying tonight?"

"My apartment," she said.

He nodded and stood, heading to his bedroom, Ziva following quickly behind.

Tony grabbed a pillow off the bed, and the spare bed-spread from the bench he kept at the foot board. They stood toe-to-toe at the foot of the bed. "I'm sleeping on the couch. You're sleeping here," he said.

Normally ordering Ziva around was like tormenting a hungry bear- you wanted to have your arm bitten off and then poked to death with your dismembered finger. Not Fun.

But tonight, she studied his expression as he spoke and listened to his tone. This was not a patriarchal order; he honestly meant well.

"You're not sleeping on the couch," she took the pillow from his hands with a firm tug and set it back on the bed.

"Yes, I am. I... Come on, Ziva! I'm not going to be able to sleep if I know you're in your place alone with that guy."

Ziva smirked. "Jealous, Tony?" She rolled her eyes and reached out and tugged the blanket from his hands. "I'll stay," she said simply.

"You will?" he asked. _That was too easy. _

Her brown curls bobbed as she nodded. "But not with you on the couch."

_Don't assume. Do not assume,_ he repeated to himself. "The floor's much less comfortable than the couch, I promise."

She ignored his attempt at diversion and mustered up as much courage as she could find. "Stay here? I want you to. "

Tony's face relaxed into a quiet, reserved smile. "I can do that," he said.

"Good." She nodded. "Can I borrow some boxers?" she asked.

"Zee-vah, why do I think that one day all of my boxers will belong to you?" he said, watching as she strode to his dresser and helped herself to a pair of his red silk boxers and one of his under-shirts. The fact that she knew where everything was should have disconcerted him, but it didn't.

"Why do you think I bought you the boxer briefs?" she replied with a saucy smirk over her shoulder before she stepped into the bathroom to change.


	4. Chapter 4

The embrace had felt comfortable, the way it does with someone you've been with for years.

Perhaps it was because they worked together so closely. Perhaps because they spent every day together, just about.

Or perhaps because as he pulled the covers up over them both and she settled into the crook of his arm, it felt as if they had both come home.

He could tell her mind was reeling from the surprise visit of Michael Rivkin – a weakness she'd never admit. Tony knew she hardly ever allowed herself a moment to relax and cope with her stresses – she was constantly on guard.

But, when she rested her hand on his abs and began to absently explore the contours of his stomach, he knew that she was turning over the situation in her mind.

She obviously felt safe enough in his arms to let her guard down and begin to process the day's events.

He was a strong-willed man, certainly, but he wasn't dead. And her touch had a very expected reaction.

Tony closed his eyes and tried to think of the most un-sexy images he possibly could. _Gibbs in a dress. Vance in a dress. Tim in Abby's heels. _

A small chuckle escaped him just as he covered her hand with his own. Tony turned and kissed the top of her head quickly.

"Ticklish?" She asked, tilting her face back to look at him, completely unaware of the reaction she had started to cause.

"Nope," he replied. "But you're _way_ too hot to get handsy under the covers and not expect me to be frisky."

She frowned and processed his words a moment before chuckling. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he replied, ducking his head to kiss her quickly again. "You can get handsy whenever you want, Zee-vah. Just ... maybe tonight's not the best time?"

Ziva nodded and slid her arm across his stomach, twisting in his arms and kissing him again. "Michael is a distraction for you, yes?"

Tony pulled back, breaking the kiss gently. "Try not to talk about your fiancee when we're in bed together, ok? Makes me feel a little cheap."

She managed to look about as abashed as she was able and slid back into his embrace, closing her eyes. "There is no need to feel jealous, Tony. I've been with you for the last five years, not him. And if I had wanted to stay with him last time, I could have. And I am with you now, not him," she sighed as he wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her closer. "The engagement is a technicality."

"I'm glad you came back," he said.

"There was no where else to be," she replied.

Eyes closed and breathing evened out as sleep overtook them both.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony never heard the man's footsteps as he made his way to Tony's side.

"You've gotta let her go," Gibbs said softly.

They both stood, eyes trained on the Director's door, having watched Ziva and Michael enter just moments before.

"Boss?"

"She's gotta handle this on her own, DiNozzo," Gibbs continued, sipping from his coffee. "You can't rescue her."

Tony scoffed in his typical defensive manner. "As if she'd let me. Ziva would shoot the first white-knight that tried to come to her rescue."

Gibbs' head cocked to the side. "Have you ever seen her cry?"

"I don't follow, Boss," Tony replied, frowning.

"She stayed late last night. Sat at her desk and stared at the vase of red roses that mysteriously appeared a few days ago," he paused as he sipped his coffee. "She might be an assassin, DiNozzo, but she's still a woman. And women still cry. Sometimes there's tears- and sometimes you just _know_ they're crying but not able to show it."

Tony frowned, unable to find a witty retort to slip into the conversation as was standard procedure.

Gibbs cuffed him on the shoulder. "You've gotta let her go, Dinozzo."

Vance had appeared at the top of the stairs and managed to catch Gibbs' eye. Jethro acknowledge Vanc'es jerk of the head with a nod before the new director ducked back into his office. Gibb's presence was obviously required.

"You wouldn't know anything about those roses, would you, DiNozzo?"

"I think me knowing about those roses would violate rule number twelve, Boss."

Gibbs chuckled at the non-answer and headed up the stairs to Vance's office.

The knock on the door came later in the evening than he had expected.

He had expected she'd follow him back to his place after work. He had expected they'd have dinner, go for a run, and spend some time snuggled up on the sofa watching a movie.

He had looked forward to all of it.

Yet when he opened the door to her knocking and took one look at her face, he knew that none of those things were going to happen.

Tony stepped aside and allowed her to step into the apartment, neither uttering a word until the door was shut behind her.

"Want spaghetti for dinner?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and planting a firm playboy smile on his face in an attempt to make whatever was about to happen hurt less.

"No. Thank you."

"Chicken masala?"

She shook her head. "Tony, I-" she stopped and cleared her throat. "I have to go back to Tel-Aviv"

He nodded. "Ah."

She frowned, an incredulous look on her face. "That's all you have to say?"

He shrugged. "It was going too well. My best friend happens to be the woman of my dreams. I spent the best night of my life curled up with her in my arms and – surprisingly – there was no sex. But still the best night of my life. All that, plus I almost beat you last Tuesday on our run. It was too good to be true. The other shoe had to drop sometime."

"Tony -"

"Its fine, Ziva," he said, his voice icy.

"You do not understand," she started, holding her hand up to forestall him but he ignored it.

"I understand. You're going back. You're going to get married and pop out little Rivkins."

"I -"

He pushed through her words again. "There's not much else to say, Ziva. You've gotta do this. Family comes first, right?"

She crossed her arms and looked down at her shoes.

Tony curled his hand around the door knob and held the door open for her. As she walked past him, he couldn't help but whisper: "I gave you a reason to stay."

She didn't reply, but looked back over her shoulder, met his eyes and gave him a sad half-smile.

Ziva had tried to hide it, but Tony had seen. He had seen the tears in her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

Her desk was as orderly as usual.

He couldn't seem to make heads or tails of the few items remaining. They were standard issue, but she should have returned them to the supply closet, as was typical when leaving the office for a new assignment.

She had moved her stuff last time.

Then again, last time she had a half-day at work to in which to clear her desk, put her supplies away in the closet, and have McGee help her reset her computer's password to something generic. She had a half-day to spend with Abby, McGee and himself in the lab, splitting a pizza.

This time, she had merely not come in to work. And the only one seeming upset by her absence was Tony.

Abby seemed convinced she'd return-- something about having never seen Ziva so relaxed and happy until recently.

McGee merely stated that since she hasn't changed her password on her computer, she'd be back.

He could hear Gibb's voice in his head. _You've gotta let her go. _

It was all he had heard for a week. His week without Ziva.

It had been different last time. The last time she was gone, there was no time to miss her – he had been babysitting 19 year old seamen who had barely figured out how to salute.

The few moments he had to contemplate loss were split evenly amongst Jenny and Ziva. And his photos were helpful in swaying thoughts from a morbid topic to a more romantic one.

He didn't have much time to miss her last time, but he still managed. She hadn't had much time to clean her desk this time – but she hadn't managed. And it unnerved him. Ziva was nothing if not thorough.

"We goona clean off her desk, Boss?" Tony asked, eying roses that had been carefully dried, tied with a ribbon, and placed in a smaller dry-vase on her desk. Two roses- one yellow, one red. The only sign of a personal touch on her desk.

"Nope."

"Where's Agent Hallow going to sit, Boss?" McGee asked, glancing up from his report.

"Not there, McGee," Gibbs replied, reaching into Tony's filing cabinet and pulling out a particular folder of evidence photos.

"So, what, is it a Mossad shrine now?" Tony snarked.

Gibbs stopped in his stride long enough to whack the back of Tony's head – hard. "She's coming back, DiNozzo,"


	7. Chapter 7

"I am a trained agent, Papa," she said, the door slamming open as she stormed into his office, complete disregard for the debriefing she was interrupting. "Not a bargaining chip for you to gamble!"

"Ah, Ziva, home so soon?" he said, leaning back in his chair and steeping his fingers in front of him. One quick glance to the men in front of him, and they quickly excused themselves and slipped out the door.

"As you demanded," she replied, arms crossed firmly across her chest. "You sent Michael to 'fetch' me."

"You're a good daughter, Ziva."

She glared at him. "I will not marry Michael, Papa."

"Two months ago you were not so adamant, Ziva."

"Two months ago, I thought I'd never go back!"

The room was quiet, each casting thoughtful glares at each other.

"We are your family here," he said.

She nodded. "As are they."

"You care for them more than your Papa?"

Ziva sighed and mentally rolled her eyes in a very DiNozzo-esque move. "They have saved my life. I have saved theirs. We work together. We laugh together. We cry together. We have become family through death."

"You have had death here, too."

"I have had life there, Papa," she replied, thinking of the nights out with Abby, Ducky's stories, the book-exchange with McGee, movies with Tony, and all she had learned with Gibbs. "Here I have missions."

He nodded. "You are a Mossad assassin, Ziva. Your life is mission to mission."

Ziva threw her hands up in frustration. "Papa I am an assassin because you made me one since I was a child! You put the first gun in my hands - You put the first target on the wall. And I have _never once _ complained. I have _never _questioned your wisdom. I have been a good daughter to you- and a good agent to Mossad." She stopped and strode to his desk, resting her palms against the desktop, leaning into his space. "I'm more than an assassin now- I'm an investigator. And I'm good at my job."

"I have no doubt that is true, Yaldah," he said, calling her his child.

"You cannot ask me to sacrifice my happiness for your political desires. Marrying Michael is what you need – a line of succession – a new Assistant Director. And you want nothing more than for me to create your next heir. All the better if he, too, is Mossad from birth."

Eli half-shrugged, unconcerned about using his daughter as breeding stock. "I am not getting any younger, Ziva."

"Neither am I," she said simply.

"I would like some grandchildren."

She stood, crossing her arms again. "I know."

He shifted, leaning forward and resting his arms on his desk, his posture relaxing and a less calculating and more fatherly gleam to his eye. "What is his name?" he asked.

She cocked an eyebrow; "Who's name?"

"The man you love."

Ziva sighed. Hiding it was futile. He was incredibly intuitive; Gibb's called it his 'gut' but Eli David called it years of Mossad training and parenthood combined. "Tony. His name is Tony."

"Anthony? An Italian?"

"Yes, Papa."

"You prefer a Catholic to a Jew?" he asked, his voice not at all indicating prejudice or hatred, merely cultural bias from years of tradition.

"No." She smirked. "I prefer Tony to Michael," she replied.

"You love him?"

She nodded, feeling a sense of calm pass through her.

Dancing around the term 'love' had been exhausting. It was only as she cried herself to sleep last night after leaving Tony's that she had finally admitted to the word 'love' to describe what she felt for him. It was a revelation, certainly, but also the biggest opportunity for hurt.

Tony was worth the risk, she had decided.

Eli David leaned back in his chair and allowed himself to smile a genuine smile at his daughter. "Does _he _want children?"

"Papa, you're screening my future husbands based on their desire to give you grandchildren?" she asked, chuckling at the absurdity.

He shrugged. "A man wants to enjoy his grandchildren as he gets older. It is only right."

She rolled her eyes at her father. "I will let you know when we discuss it, Papa."

"This is what you want, Ziva?"

Ziva nodded, her brown curls bouncing as she did so. "Yes, Papa."

Eli tensed his lips as he thought. "I will make arrangements for your stay in the United States to become more permanent."

"Thank you, Papa."


	8. Chapter 8

Punk music blared and Abby slurped the last of her caf-pow. She eyed the bottom of the cup reproachfully as she realized she had finished her third for the day and it was doubtful that Gibbs would appear with another anytime soon.

"I think I need a Caf-Pow machine in my lab. Wonder if I can expense that," she said to herself, startling slightly as a new Caf-Pow appeared on her desk.

"Just your friendly Caf-Pow delivery-stud, Abs," he said, preening mockingly.

She spun, hugging him to her quickly. "Tony! My hero. I don't know how Gibbs expected me to analyze all these finger prints from Mrs. Magillicuddy's car without refueling. Woman can not work on cookies alone, Tony. Caf-Pow is a requirement."

He peered over her shoulder. "How are the fingerprints coming?"

They had taken on a rape-case earlier this week. A Petty Officer had been assaulted after leaving her grandmother's house for their weekly visit.

It was the first time that Tony could remember being glad Ziva wasn't on a case- he'd hate to see how she reacted to the type of violence this woman experienced at the hands of her attacker. Ziva, no doubt, would have 'accidentally' castrated his suspects during interrogation.

"No luck," Abby replied. "Too much smudging to get a solid lock on identifying points. I think I have to hand-trace and see if that clears up the smudges. And now that I'm refuel," she took a large slurp of her Caf-Pow, "I should be set to work into the night!"

Tony leaned his chin on her shoulder as the regarded the fingerprints.

"You miss her, huh?" Abby said softly.

He sighed. "Yeah."

"Gibbs says she's coming back," she supplied, turning and regarding her friend with kind eyes.

"I dunno, Abs. He might be wrong this time."

"Have you guys talked since she's been in Israel?"

Tony shook his head in reply. He knew Abby had been filled in by Ziva on their weekly jogs & movie nights. And Abby, being as smart as she was, had interpreted their friendship to be more than just a friendship.

That didn't mean Tony wanted to admit it- absolutely not. It just meant he wasn't going to dance around it with her- not when he desperately wanted someone to talk to.

"You should call her."

"She doesn't want to talk to me."

Abby tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "What did you say to her, Tony?"

He was honestly torn between hurt that she'd assume it was his fault, and guilt. "What? What did _I _say? Why do you assume-"

"Tony!"

Tony sighed as Abby interrupted and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I wasn't the most ... supportive when she told me she was heading back. I kinda might have told her to leave sooner rather than later."

He flinched as Abby punched his arm – hard. "Why would you say that, DiNozzo? What is wrong with you! That girl is ... Argh! Men are so infuriating sometimes. If Ziva were here, I'd make her sick her ninja skills on you!"

Abby grabbed Tony's arm and pulled him behind her to her office. She shut the door between the office and the lab and shoved him into her desk-chair – hard.

"Call her."

Tony didn't scare easily, but the look on Abby's face was one she _had _to have learned from Gibbs, Ziva, and his own mother and then adapted into her own Abby-look-of-death. It was truly frightening.

"Abs-"

"Don't you 'Abs' me, DiNozzo. Call her."

He closed his eyes for a second, knowing she was right. "And say what, exactly?"

Abby's voice soften and her shoulders slumped as she allowed some empathy towards him. Some empathy – she was still pretty mad.

"Tell her you miss her. Tell her you don't know what to do with yourself on a Tuesday night so you end up in my lab at eight pm instead of out running or making her dinner or fighting over a movie," Abby said, having learned their weekly plans from Ziva herself. "Tell her you didn't mean what you said and you hope she's coming home soon."

He shook his head. "That's just it, Abs. She _is _home- her family is there in Israel."

She rolled her eyes and pointed to the phone, not moving until he had grabbed the handset and hit the speed dial that said "Ziva-Cell."

Abby turned, confident that Tony would follow through or face her wraith later, and headed back to her fingerprint-tracing, shutting her office-door behind her to allow them some privacy.


	9. Chapter 9

_Please let it go to voicemail,_ he thought, wincing as he heard the phone pick up and her voice answer in a bleary tone. "Abby? Are you ok?"

"Um, its not Abs, actually, Ziva," he said, grimacing through his words. "Just your friendly neighborhood NCIS agent."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. What makes you think something's wrong?" he countered. _This was not how this call should have gone, _he thought.

"Its after two in the morning here, Tony," she supplied.

"Did I wake you up?"

She paused before answering, sitting up on her elbows and rubbing her eyes clear from sleep with one hand. "Not really, no." _Nightmare, yes. You woke me up from a nightmare. Not from sleep. _"I assumed there's an emergency for you to call from the office at this hour?"

He sighed. "Yeah. There is. Its not an emergency per se, but... I needed to tell you something."

Ziva remained silent, combing her hair out of her face with her fingers.

Tony continued, clearing his throat. "I um... I'm sorry about how we left things," he said, not sure if that was the correct thing to say. He had never been adept at apologies- especially not when they were important enough to mean something.

He heard her sigh across the phone line. "Thank you for saying that."

"I mean it."

Ziva lay back down on her bed, closing her eyes. "I wish we had spoken longer the other night. I ... I think perhaps I wasn't clear when -"

He interrupted. "No- it was my fault, Ziva. You were plenty clear. You've got to do what's best for your family and your employer and your country. There's more riding on where you live and who you're with than just my ego."

"Would you let me finish?" She barked. "I said I wasn't clear because it seems that you think I came to Israel to marry Michael, you bolt."

"Dolt," he corrected, absently. "And you mean you're not there to marry him?"

"No."

Tony frowned, resting his elbows on Abby's desk and rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "Then I'm definitely confused. Why did you leave?"

Ziva rolled onto her side, hugging a small stuffed elephant to her chest.

She had slept with stuffed animals when she was younger. As she grew older and into her role with Mossad, she had thought herself too adult to enjoy the comforts of childhood. But when Abby, Gibbs, Tony and McGee had insisted on taking Ziva to her first county-fair, she had squealed with delight when Tony handed her the stuffed animal he just won. She had thought to leave him behind this trip, but after her spat with Tony, she had felt the need to have a tangible reminder of their friendship on-hand.

Ziva was silent for a second as she gathered her thoughts. "I had a fight with my father today," she said, her tone changing the subject slightly. "Afterwards, I had a fight with Michael. It was not an enjoyable day."

Tony leaned back in Abby's chair, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of her chair. "Are you ok?"

"Physically, yes, I am fine," she sighed. "I just wish Tel-Aviv and DC were not so far away. I would like nothing more right now than to be on your sofa with a stupid movie and you annoying me by quoting all the lines."

He frowned; Ziva admitting weakness was something he rarely heard- and if she was admitting to needing his presence, then either they were further into whatever relationship thing they were doing than he had thought, or she really was struggling to keep her composure in front of her father. _In this case... probably both. _

"I wish you hadn't left at all," he supplied.

"I had to handle this in person," she said softly. "I believe Michael was more upset than Papa when I told him I wouldn't marry him."

Tony grinned. "I understand that completely – I'd be pretty pissed, too, if someone said that the hottest woman I'd ever met suddenly wasn't goona marry me."

"Tony-" she chastised.

"Seriously, Ziva, you've got to see his perspective. He's spent the last – how many years? - thinking that you and he were going to get hitched, he'd get a promotion and a nice raise, and you'd be the beauty on his arm at all the fantastic super-spy balls."

She felt herself grinning under his words. "I do not think that was his problem, Tony."

"I do. I know how I felt, just knowing you were marrying someone else- I can only imagine how he feels to know you just broke your engagement- technicality or otherwise."

Her voice dropped to just above a whisper. "How did you feel?"

"Like my world just got ripped apart," he said softly. _Since when did I forget how to dance-around these sorts of questions? Since when did I become honest and up front!? _He thought to himself.

She was silent, not sure how to reply. Her instinct was to say _Me too_ but it seemed so insignificant.

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. And repeated the process again.

"I miss you," she managed to say, breaking the awkward silence.

The words hit Tony like a ton of bricks – and yet they managed to lift a weight off his shoulders and he felt himself relax.

"Well that's the best news I've heard in a while," he replied, grinning. "Here I am missing you and thinking I'm crazy for it..."

"Well you are definitely crazy," she teased. "But not for that."

Tony chuckled. "So fought with daddy, huh? Are you still employed? Or now on house-arrest at Mossad brain-washing-central?" His voice was light, teasing.

"I am still employed," she replied. "He said he would try to make my position there a bit more permanent."

"Is that a good thing?" Tony asked cautiously.

She frowned, pulling the phone from her ear for a moment and glaring at it, as if he could feel the daggers from across the water. "I do not know, Tony. You tell me!"

_How did this go from a snuggly phone call to a snippy phone call? _ He thought as he opened his mouth to reply. "I know that I would like nothing more than to have you here with us – with me – for a long, long time, Ziva. But I don't know how you feel about it."

_This is about more than NCIS, I think, _she thought as she let his words roll over her. "I would like that as well," she said.

They sat quietly again, reveling in each other's presence on the phone. "Why are you still at the office?" she asked, having finally done the mental-math and realized how late it was.

"I'm waiting on some evidence from Abs."

"It won't wait until tomorrow?" she asked, knowing that unless it was life-or-death, Gibbs encouraged his team to have down-time when they could get it, knowing it was far-between.

Tony shrugged. "It could."

"Then go home, DiNozzo," Ziva said firmly. "It is Tuesday- you should be running."

"I can't go running," he replied. "My running partner left me to yell at her father and break off her engagement!"

Ziva chuckled. "Some things come before running, Tony. Being officially-single again is one of them."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. Really," She said smoothly, her voice laden with joviality. "I think now is a good time to make sure I am free, should an appropriate suitor come along."

_Why now? _He thought to himself. _OH just ask her, DiNozzo! _"And why is now such a good time, Zee-vah?"

She shrugged, knowing he couldn't see her. "Engaged women should not spend weekends on secluded islands with their best friends unless those best friends are their fiancees," she said, tossing his words back at him from earlier in the week.

"So next time we go to the Cobb's Island, we have to be engaged?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he gave himself a quick slap to the forehead. _Stupid DiNozzo. Stupid. Stupid Stupid. _

She chuckled, hearing the 'thwack' as he smacked his head. "We can discuss it the next time you invite me to the island," she replied.

_Well, that wasn't a "Hell no," _Tony thought, relieved she hadn't laughed in his face. He wasn't a marrying type of guy- or at least that's what he had always thought. But the idea of Ziva marrying Michael had spawned some jealousy-fueled images of a David-DiNozzo wedding in his mind that hadn't gone away in days.

"I should start to plan that trip now," he said, chuckling alogn with her. "When do you get back?"

"A few days," she said. "I have a few more – how do you say – loose ends to tie up here before I leave."

"Let me know if you need a ride from the airport."

"I will be fine, but thank you," she replied. Besides- the idea of spontaneously visiting him when she returned ... well it had been one of the only things keeping her sane this week.

"Zi?" he said, having again broken the comfortable silence that kept creeping into their conversation.

"Mm?" she murmured, loving the way he shortened her name. Had the diminutive rolled off anyone else's lips, she would have been forced to remove their reproductive organs with her fingernails. But from Tony, it gave her a feeling of protection for reasons unknown.

"I really am sorry."

"I know," she said. "Me too."

"You're coming back?"

"If that's really what you want," she replied.

"More than you could imagine! McGee is driving me nuts. Agent Hallow has no where to sit because Gibbs won't let her use your desk. Ducky is pouting because Vance is being a dick..."

"So you want me to come back to keep the peace at the office?" she asked, smirking as she did so.

"Well yeah! You guys haven't solved peace-in-the-Middle-East, but...somehow when you're here, everyone's nicer," he said.

"I see."

Tony cleared his throat. "I want you to come _home, _Ziva," he said, emphasizing the word. "Come home. "


	10. Chapter 10

She slid her sunglasses to the top of her head, her curls waving in the slight breeze.

The walk to the grave marker was one she knew she'd be able to do half-asleep, but she still looked up and counted rows as she made her way towards the large tree she used as a guide.

The cemetery held more members of her family than she cared to admit and as she walked passed each row, she offered a small prayer for her fallen brethren.

Tali, her sister. Her cousins Feya and Ramiel. Uncles. Aunts. Her mother.

The grave marker shown against the others, the bronze marker displaying the name: Chaim Hofi.

"Hello, Chaim," she said, stooping next to the plot, placing a large pebble on the grave marker. "I brought that for you from America- I found it last Tuesday and thought you might like it."

"I go running with a friend of mine every week," she said, speaking as if the grave marker was able to reply. "It is a nice routine and I enjoy the company. My partner – Tony – he and I do several miles each night. The trails are rather challenging and ... you'd like him, Chaim. He's a good man."

Ziva paused, feeling herself chuckle. "He's a man, of course, and acts like a pig most of the time. But I think that is part of being a man, yes? You were a pig, too. But you were a good man. Tony is a good man."

"He is infuriating. But he is also the first man that has been able to make me laugh, cry, and want to beat him all at the same time," she smiled. "I think you would approve."

"I want to try to ..." she stuttered, unable to even speak the thought of committing to him – lest she be disappointed should it not work out. "I want to be more than a killer- I want to be worthy of someone's love again. You would be proud. I am an investigator now, not just an assassin. And I think I might be ready to be someone's partner outside of work. I believe Tony and I could be that for each other."

"Don't worry," she said, her fingers tracing the letters on his name. "I will not forget you. But perhaps I will have someone else with me when I visit next time. Perhaps I can get Tony to come and give his respects as well," she smirked. "If it works out, perhaps we will have little DiNozzos one year, too. I think you would like to see that, Chaim. I think you would like to see me live again."

A small tear escaped her, her head bent over his plot.

She stood, squared her shoulders and wiped her eyes quickly. Ziva steeled her features before turning and heading away from the grave marker, away from Chaim, away from her past.

She passed the row of her mother.

She passed the row of her sister.

She passed the row of her cousins, her grandparents, her friends and commrads.

Death surrounded her.

She wondered, briefly, if she caused death bringing it with her wherever she went & infecting others... or if it just permeated her life.


	11. Chapter 11

The day had been absolute crap.

The rape victim from earlier in the week had gotten an infection in several of her deeper lacerations. The antibiotics the doctor at Bethesda had prescribed had helped, but the Petty Officer had spiked a fever so high it had caused seizures leading to her death.

Her body would be sent back to Ducky for the autopsy to officially claim that her death was a result of injuries sustained during her attack.

That upped the charge from violent sexual assault and battery to murder.

And it upped the work load on their desks twofold.

Gibbs had finally called it a day when he realized he was on coffee number nine for the day and the local coffee shop had closed. With no chance for a refill, he concluded that the evidence would still be there in the morning when they all had some rest and a fresh perspective.

_More the lack of coffee than the need for rest, _Tony had thought, exchanging identical looks with McGee as they grabbed their gear and headed to the elevator for the night.

If there was a red-light between the office and his place, Tony had managed to hit it.

Not like he had big plans for the night. But he didn't want to spend the evening in his car.

He wanted to go home, kick off his shoes, untie his tie and sit on the sofa and call Ziva.

But, at four in the morning in Tel Aviv, he was sure he'd wake Ziva. Of course, if he waited another hour, she'd be getting up for the day. He might be able to catch her before her morning run.

He grinned to himself at that realization, unlocking his door.

A delightful smell caught his nose and he looked up as the door shut behind him.

Her hair was pulled away from her face with the abalone clip she had purchased on Cobb's Island, her curls falling down her back.

She looked up and her brown eyes sparkled at him, a hesitant smile on her face. "Long day at the office? You are home late."

Tony wasn't sure to grin or glare. Ziva was in his kitchen. Standing over his stove making something that smelled absolutely divine.

But... Ziva was in his kitchen. iShe didn't call – just showed up and picked the lock and made herself right at home./i

She set the wooden spoon down and walked towards him, her hands immediately loosening the knot on his tie. Her brown eyes looked everywhere but at his. "I thought you would be home sooner- the dinner might be a little overcooked."

Tony frowned down at her, raising his hands and covering hers as she worked on the knot in his tie.

"You're back?"

She nodded and tugged on his tie, pulling her hands away with it. "I am."

"When did you get back, exactly?"

"This afternoon."

He couldn't help the exasperated look from forming on his face. "And you didn't call me?!"

She half-shrugged. "You were working. Gibbs said you had an important case."

It wasn't quite shouting but his voice definitely rose a level. "You called Gibbs but you didn't call me?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise?"

He sighed. Ziva stepped away, setting his tie down and moving back into the kitchen.

She turned her back to him and picked up the spoon to resume cooking. He watched her unnecessarily poke at the salmon on the stove top grill for a moment before following her and sliding up behind her. Tony set his chin on her shoulder – he slid his hand down her arm until he covered her hand with his own and stilled her from poking the fish to pieces.

She closed her eyes. "I should have called. You are right. I -"

"Thank you," he said softly, his breath tickling her ear as he spoke.

She put the spoon down, and turned in his arms. "I should have told you," she said. She spoke of more than just her surprise return. She spoke of the never-mentioned engagement. She spoke of the baggage she brought with her from her past.

Tony shook his head. "I had a crappy day. I was going to come home, kick my shoes off and sit on the couch for an hour until it was time for you to get up to go running in Tel Aviv. I was going to call you and just listen to you yell at me for harassing you so early."

"I would not have yelled-" she started.

"Yes you would have. And I would have loved every minute of it," he replied, grinning. "But coming home to find you here was better. It was the best surprise I could have asked for."

"You're not just saying that? Because-"

He bent his head and gently silenced her with a soft kiss. "I'm not just saying that."

She felt herself blush. _When did I start blushing? This is ridiculous,_ she chastised herself, seeing Tony's knowing and cocky smirk.

"Did I just make the world-traveled, immune to everything Mossad highly trained assassin turned investigator, blush?"

She smirked at his taunting. "Its a possibility. It could also be from the heat of the stove."

He laughed and she grinned.

"So ... no marriage to Mr. Mossad-man?"

Ziva shook her head. "No."

"And Daddy-dearest isn't making you come home to set up house?"

"No." Her curls bounced as she shook her head again. "I am setting up house here."

"Here?" he asked, his eyes sweeping around his apartment. "Here-here? Or DC, here."

She grinned, her mouth lopsided with suppressed enjoyment. "For now, DC. Later we can discuss here-here."

"We definitely will discuss that." Tony nodded, his grin still in place. "And... Mossad breeding farm? You're not going to be recruited to pop out little assassin babies, right?"

"Well," she started, her fingers toying with the top button on his work shirt. "I will not be 'breeding' with anyone from Mossad. But I was politely reminded by my father that he _would _like grandchildren before he dies."

He nodded, his attention torn between her and the wonderful teasing sensations her fingers were causing through the cotton of his shirt. "My mother reminds me that every week."

"Perhaps giving them grandchildren will be the easiest way to stop the reminders," she said, coyly.

Tony nodded, feeling her finally free the top button. He felt Ziva move her hand to the next button and toyed with it half-heartedly.

"I think that would definitely stop the reminders," he said, his voice low and gentle. "But I think that would require us living together."

She nodded.

"And, considering how conservative your father is – and my mother... there would have to be a wedding before the grandchildren."

She nodded again.

"Is that something... is that something you want? In the future?" he stuttered through the sentence. "The distant future? You know... not... tomorrow or anything."

Ziva felt her cheeks heat again and mentally smacked herself at this newfound tendency to blush.

"I think tomorrow would be a bit soon, yes," she agreed, watching his features closely as she continued. "But if we were to wait – a while – and then decide if we wanted a wedding... well, we could discuss that."

"After a while?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, "A few months, at least," she grinned as he let out a sigh of relief.

As mature as he had become since Jeanne, and since Jenny's death, he was still petrified of commitment. And she fully understood; too many people close to her had been lost. Letting in another person was a huge emotional gamble and she didn't blame him for his fears.

Rushing into a relationship with him wasn't something she had any intention of doing. The small steps and admissions they had made over the last several months had been slow – but she had kept that pace intentionally.

As much as she was attracted to Tony – and she knew he returned the feeling – jumping into bed for the sake of one night of fantastic sex, was not worth the fallout. Not to the team. Not to their friendship.

Their friendship was too valuable to ruin by diving into a relationship. But she felt a little more secure now- now that they had weathered the storm that Michael had brought from Tel-Aviv.

Tonight there would be dinner, a movie, a cuddle on the couch. There would be kissing, she was sure. And she predicted there would be a trip to... _How did Abby call it? Second base. Yes, Tony could visit second base tonight. _

Ziva felt his hand trace the side of her face, tucking a stray curly lock behind her ear.

"You're really back?"

"I am," she replied again, nodding.

"Any other fiancees I need to know about?"

"No."

"And you're staying."

"You gave me a reason to stay," she said, leaning up and kissing him, her hand cupping his cheek.

"The DiNozzo charm?" he said, cheekily.

"No," she replied, smiling, "It was the DiNozzo spaghetti."

**AN: Thanks to all who read/reviewed. I have had a blast working on this series and love hearing from those of you who enjoyed reading it. :) Thanks for following the journey! The End.**


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